Zero Day
by firewaterspaceairearth
Summary: Kurt's mom died when he was a kid, just eight years old. And anniversaries aren't always happy. Many memories return. Everyone knew, but at Dalton, nobody does. That's probably why Kurt was curled up in his room crying.


**If you recognise it, it's not mine.**

* * *

_The little boy with soft brown hair and sparkling blue-green eyes skipped happily along the corridors. Suddenly, he stopped, turning to face his father._

_"Daddy," he began, his voice still holding traces of a childish lisp, "Will Mom be home in time for my birthday?"_

_The older man sighed, offering a hand for the boy to take._

_"Maybe, scooter. Why?"_

_"Because I'm going to be eight! That's very old, Daddy," he said solemnly. His father hid a laugh, instead nodding sympathetically._

_"Can I go see Mom now? I know the way to her room from here."_

_The man nodded._

_"Sure, kiddo. Which way now?"_

_"Past the big sign, that one, and then it's the fourth door after that!"_

_The boy scampered away happily, eager to see his mother._

* * *

Kurt brushed his hair back from his forehead, willing himself not to look at the calendar. Don't look, he chided himself. But as he reached for his moisturiser, his eyes drifted to the small paper measure. He winced, but didn't look away. A knock on the door dragged him out of his thoughts.

"Hello? Kurt? I have coffee!"

He pulled the door open, admitting his best friend Blaine, indeed bearing two cups of coffee.

"Hi, Blaine. I'm almost ready, give me two minutes, ok?" Kurt returned to his routine, hurrying a little. When he'd finished, he turned to Blaine.

"So, ready to go down to breakfast?"

Blaine nodded happily, holding the door open.

"I still don't get why you bring coffee up, then we go down for breakfast together," Kurt said, taking a sip of his drink. Blaine laughed.

"Does there have to be a reason?"

Kurt smiled.

"I guess not."

As the two entered the hall, their attention was taken by a table filled with boys wearing the same blazers as the rest of the hall, plus a small gold pin. Kurt and Blaine walked over, slotting into the group effortlessly.

"-I swear, way too much of my family got born this month!" Nick cried, to general amusement.

"Last minute present shopping?" Blaine asked with a smirk.

"Only for my sister, my aunt, my other aunt, my cousin, my second cousin,_ and_ my mom!" Nick wailed dramatically, flopping his head down onto the table, narrowly missing Wes's plate of toast. The Warblers laughed.

"So when's your birthday then?"

"December," Nick answered gloomily, sitting up again, "It sucks. I get a joint present when people actually remember, while my little sister gets a present now, then one at Christmas. Seriously."

"Well, mine is right in the middle of the summer holidays. It's great sometimes, like when we went to Greece, but when I was a kid I hated never being able to have proper birthday parties because my friends were all on holiday too," Jeff added. This prompted a discussion about birthdays, which Kurt tuned out of. Not today, he wouldn't think about this today. His luck didn't hold.

"-Mine's in February, so that's alright, I guess. My brother's is on the same day as my dad's, he gets really embarrassed. It's really confusing because he got named after my dad too, so they always open each other's cards by accident and stuff. What about you, Kurt?"

Kurt jumped.

"What, sorry?"

Blaine laughed, grabbing a slice of toast.

"Your birthday, Kurt. When is it?"

Kurt frowned, scooping a large spoonful of muesli into his mouth. A bit too large, it seemed, as he began to choke on a lump stuck in his throat. At least a dozen fists thumped him hard on the back and he nearly fell off the chair at the force of it.

"Woah, Kurt, are you ok?"

Kurt shook his head, gripping his stomach.

"I feel kinda sick," he mumbled, clamping a hand over his mouth and bolting from the room. Blaine turned to the worried-looking Warblers.

"Guys, for crying out loud, when someone chokes, attempting to fracture their spine is_ not_ how you fix it!"

He ran after Kurt, ignoring the stares and whispers.

Kurt stumbled into his room, throwing up the little in his stomach. Blaine rubbed his back gently. When he was finished, he handed him a cup of water and guided him to the bed. Kurt sipped at the water carefully, shivering lightly. Blaine patted his shoulder.

"What was that about, then? The running off?"

Kurt blinked at him.

"The worst thing I've ever seen happen when that lot try to sort someone who's choking is when they almost gave David a concussion from crashing his head onto the table. I think there's something else with you. Kurt, what's wrong?"

Kurt winced, his eyes straying to the calendar again. Blaine followed his gaze, frowning when he saw the photos of Kurt's family had been turned face down. Kurt stood up.

"Oh, look at the time. We should go to class soon."

Blaine nodded, but he heard the shakiness in the boy's voice.

"Kurt, come and talk to me if you need to, ok?"

"Ok."

* * *

_The child ran through the corridor, coming to a stop in front of the door. He reached up to push it open, breaking into a smile when he saw the woman sitting up in the bed._

_"Mom!" he cheered, waving his little hand at her. His mother held out her arms as the boy scrambled onto the bed._

_"How was your day, honey?"_

_"I played with Cedes and Rachel at break but Noah and David pushed me over."_

_The woman frowned, sending a concerned look at her husband._

_"Why did they do that, sweetheart?"_

_The boy shrugged, burying his face in his mother's shoulder._

_"They said I shouldn't play with the girls, cause that makes me a girl too. I'm not a girl, am I, Mommy?"_

_"No, sweetie. You're perfect, just the way you are. And nobody is allowed to tell you anything else, ok?"_

_The little boy nodded solemnly, playing with a wisp of his mither's hair._

_"Have you thought any more about what you want for your birthday, kiddo?" his father asked, changing the subject. Blue-green eyes flashed seriously._

_"I want you to come home, Mommy."_

_The woman bit her lip._

_"Sweetie, how about you go over to the toy room and choose a book for me to read to you?"_

_Her son jumped down from her bed happily. As he scampered away, she beckoned the man over._

_"You haven't told him."_

_It wasn't a question, just a flat, heavy statement. The man hung his head._

_"He's just a kid, not even eight years old. God, he's too young for this. You both are."_

* * *

Blaine was sitting in the middle of his Biology class when his phone buzzed lightly. He glanced around the room before pulling it out.

_'Blaine, it's Kurt. Something's up with him, he just ran out of art. He was really upset, you know him best, any ideas?' -J_ Blaine frowned, hiding his phone as the teacher passed by.

**'I'll deal with it, thanks for letting me know.' -B **He then sent a text to Kurt.

**'Are you ok?' -B**

Several minutes later, a reply arrived.

_'I'll be fine.' -K_

**'Do you want me to come?' -B**

Another minute passed before his phone buzzed again.

_'Yes.' -K_

Blaine raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr Anderson?"

"I need to go, it's important."

"What is?"

"I'm not really sure, it's just..."

He offered his phone to the teacher hopefully. She took it, scanning the messages. Her expression remained neutral, but she handed the phone back.

"If it's serious, take him to the nurse, Blaine. And I don't want you to have your phone out in class again, understand?"

Blaine thanked her, leaving the room. As he walked through the corridors, he texted Kurt again.

**'I'm on my way, where are you?' -B**

When he got no response for a few minutes, he called Kurt. The phone was picked up fairly quickly.

"B-blaine?"

"Yeah, where are you?"

"M-my room."

Blaine quickened his pace.

"Sure, give me a couple of minutes. Kurt, what happened?"

The call cut off. Blaine ignored the rules about no running in the corridors, and sprinted to Kurt's room. When he got there, he knocked on the door gently.

"Kurt?"

A stifled whimper reached his ears in response. Blaine tried the handle. It opened easily and he stepped into the room. Kurt was hunched up on his bed, trembling slightly. He sat down next to him, placing a gentle hand on Kurt's back.

"Kurt? It's me, Blaine. Are you...are you ok? Well, obviously not, but..."

Blaine rubbed his back gently, murmuring comforting words under his breath. Eventually, Kurt sat up, his breath hitching.

"Sorry," he whispered. Blaine simply wrapped his arms round him, allowing Kurt's head to rest on his shoulder for a minute.

"What happened, Kurt? Why are you so upset?"

Kurt sniffed.

"Can...can you keep holding me? I mean..."

Blaine laughed lightly, tightening his hold.

"Ok. You know how everyone was talking about birthdays at breakfast? It's mine today."

"Really? Happy birthday!"

Kurt shook his head.

"Don't. I hate my birthday now. I remember my mom always themed everything, like when I was five she did a Disney princess theme. Even the wrapping paper, and she'd told everyone who sent cards so that everything matched."

"She sounds great, your mum. Is that why you're upset? Because you can't see your family?"

Kurt shook his head miserably. Blaine frowned in confusion.

"She...she d-died."

Blaine winced, hugging Kurt tighter. The taller boy slumped into his arms with a choked sound.

"Oh, Kurt. You can cry, it's fine."

Kurt shook his head, pulling back from the embrace. He laughed brokenly.

"I'm just so used to everyone knowing. I've never e-explained it before."

"You don't have to, Kurt."

"N-no. I want you to know. Y-you don't have to listen..."

Blaine rested a comforting hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"You need someone to talk to, that's fine. You need someone to give you a hug, that's fine too. Kurt, I'm your friend, so are all the Warblers. Any of us will listen if you need to tell us something, ok?"

Kurt nodded.

"W-well, it started when I was seven. Mom got sick, I still don't know what it was. She was in and out of hospital for almost a year. Then a week before my eighth birthday, my dad told me..."

* * *

_"Kiddo? I need to talk to you for a minute."_

_"Coming, Daddy!" a childish voice answered. A few minutes later the boy ran into the room, clutching a handful of Power Rangers. The man patted the space on the couch next to him, indicating for him to sit down._

_"Kiddo, you know how Mom's in the hospital?"_

_The child nodded, a frown creasing his pale forehead._

_"You know she's very, very sick?"_

_Another nod._

_"You remember what happened to Grandma, when she got sick last year? Mommy's got the same thing."_

_"Mommy's going to get better though, isn't she, Daddy?"_

_The high, clear voice trembled. The boy's eyes filled with tears as his father opened his mouth before shutting it again, shoulders slumping._

_"Daddy?"_

_"Mommy...she's very sick and the doctors don't know what's going to happen. Kiddo, I just want you to remember, she'll always love you, ok?"_

_The child began to cry, deep, shaking sobs. His father reached out for him but he twisted away._

_"No! No! I want mom!" he shrieked. Soft brown hair flopped over his eyes as he tripped over the forgotten toys on the carpet. Instead of getting up, the boy lay there, tears soaking into the floor._

* * *

Kurt broke off with a shuddering gulp. Blaine patted his shoulder.

"Do you want to stop?"

He shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"She got much worse, really fast. We were at the hospital a few days later and we had to leave early. I remember the nurses rushing in and lots of shouting, but Dad just picked me up and carried me outside the door. Then, on the morning of my eighth birthday, I got woken up in the middle of the night by Dad. He told me to put a coat on over my pyjamas. We got to the hospital, and Mom was..."

Kurt gestured hopelessly.

"She was just lying there and Dad ran to her and a nurse was saying this stuff... When me and Dad left, he had to pull me away. I didn't want to leave her. "She's gone, kiddo," he kept saying. And we eventually got back home and my cake and presents were all sitting out, where he'd put them the night before. It was three days before Dad noticed."

Blaine sat shellshocked for a minute before he looked at Kurt. The boy was incredibly pale, and he had silent tears running down his face.

"Oh, Kurt."

Blaine wrapped an arm round him, pulling him close. Kurt leant into his side.

"She died on your birthday. Today," Blaine breathed, glancing at the calendar. Kurt nodded bitterly.

"And all the guys, at breakfast... God_,_ no wonder you were sick."

Kurt's whole body was shaking with suppressed sobs.

"Kurt... It's ok. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to. C'mon. Let it out, scream if you want to. I'm here."

And with that, the dam broke, years of heartbreak and fear and helplessness pouring out in a torrent of tears and sobs and jumbled words. Blaine held him as he cried, as if he was catching all the pain and folding it away. Eventually, Kurt slumped against Blaine's chest.

"They wanted us to do a family portrait."

The whisper is so soft that Blaine almost misses it.

"What?"

"In Art. We had to draw a family portrait, and I realised...I can't really remember what she looked like anymore."

Blaine gently patted his back, smoothing back the ruffled hair. There were no words for it.

"I mean, I have photos, but they're old. They aren't of her. I couldn't draw me and Dad and her when I was eight, could I?"

Blaine walked over to the small desk.

"Can I look at them?"

Kurt gave a barely perceptible nod, so Blaine picked up some of the delicate frames. One of a tiny baby and a young couple. A little boy with neat clothes laughing with a woman who has Kurt's blue-green eyes and brown hair.

"Is this her?" Blaine asked, pointing to the woman whose head is thrown back in laughter as she hugs her son.

"Yeah."

"She's beautiful," Blaine murmured.

"You look like her, you know? Same eyes, skin, hair, smile..."

Kurt coloured slightly, breaking out into a huge yawn.

"We should go back to class," he said, standing up. He swayed on his feet, and only Blaine's fast reflexes stopped him from falling to the floor.

"Kurt, I think you should lie down for the rest of the day. No, no complaints. You're exhausted. Have you even slept for the last few days?"

Kurt shrugged, allowing Blaine to lead him back to the bed. Blaine pulled back the covers, allowing him to collapse onto the mattress.

"Shoes off, maybe?" Blaine laughed. He pulled off the boy's shoes, dragging the cover over him. Kurt curled up like a little kid, murmuring under his breath. Within a couple of minutes, he was fast asleep, breathing evenly. Blaine remained on the edge of the bed, just looking at him. He saw the dark circles under his eyes, the tear tracks drying on his cheeks. Almost furtively, Blaine reached out and brushed away a last tear on Kurt's cheek. As he stood up to leave, Kurt's phone rang. Blaine glanced at the screen. 'Dad calling' came up, and Blaine tapped the screen to answer it. A slightly choked deep voice spoke.

"Hey, kiddo."

Blaine coughed awkwardly.

"Actually, this isn't Kurt. I'm his friend, Blaine Anderson."

There was a heavy pause.

"Kurt's sleeping just now, Sir."

"Why? Has he told you anything?"

"Yes, Sir. He explained it to me. I'm so sorry."

There was another pause before Mr Hummel spoke.

"Is he ok?"

"He threw up this morning, and he's been pretty upset all day. I made him go to bed, he was exhausted."

"Ok. Shouldn't you be in class right now?"

"Yeah, I guess," Blaine sighed.

"I don't want to leave him alone, though."

"Leave him a note, and check in on him if you can?"

Blaine nodded before realising he couldn't see him.

"Ok. I'll tell him to call you, Sir."

"You're a good kid. Look after my boy, you and those bird guys."

"Warblers. Yes, of course. Bye, Sir."

The man hung up. Blaine put the phone down on Kurt's table, pulling a piece of paper out of his bag.

**'Hi Kurt, I had to go to class, I'll tell your teachers you're sick. Your dad phoned, he was worried about you, he wants you to call him back. Text me when you wake up, ok? See you soon. Blaine'**

* * *

_The child stood by the dark coffin, watching as the lid was closed and the box was lowered into the ground, hiding his mother forever. Various relatives came and went, hugging him too tightly and for too long. All the time, his father stood apart, staring at the spot where his wife had been buried. Eventually the pair were alone at the grave. The boy walked to his father's side, slipping a small hand into his shaking one. The man glanced down, as if only just realising his son was there._

_"It'll be ok, Dad." Something about the boy's voice had changed. It was still clear and high, but he was...older, somehow._

_"Nothing breaks the Hummels, right, Dad?"_

_Then he realised. His son didn't call him Daddy. _

_Not any more._

* * *

Blaine got a text almost two hours later.

_'I called dad. He says to say thank you, and he wants you to make sure I eat. Thank you for being there.' -K_ Blaine went straight to Kurt's room as soon as his class finished. Kurt tugged the door open immediately, almost tripping over his own feet. Blaine reached out a hand to steady him, looking carefully at his face, trying to guess how he was doing. Kurt coloured under the stare.

"Thank you for helping me, Blaine," he said quietly. Blaine smiled.

"It's what friends do, isn't it?"

They sat next to each other on the bed, Kurt leaning his head on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine checked his watch.

"Do you want to come down for dinner, or should I bring some food up? You missed lunch."

"I'll come with you. I need to apologize to Jeff anyway, I think I freaked him out a bit."

Blaine stood up, offering Kurt his arm. Kurt laughed at the gesture, but accepted it gracefully. As they sat down at the table, they were engulfed in a blur of questions. Kurt looked directly at Jeff, answering his question first.

"Sorry about running out on you like that. I don't mean to sound melodramatic, but it's a long story, and I can't talk about it right now." Jeff nodded understandingly, glancing at Blaine. Blaine shrugged. The topic of conversation soon shifted to Sectionals as the meal went on. If anybody at the table noticed the glances Blaine cast at Kurt were laced with worry, they didn't comment on it. And when Kurt reached out under the table and took Blaine's hand, the group missed that as well. When Blaine squeezed the slim fingers, and Kurt blushed, none of the boys chattering happily saw it. But somehow, somewhere, a woman with soft brown hair, blue-green eyes and pale skin, was watching.

And smiling.


End file.
